


Human

by Plajus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Mental Breakdown, Psychological Trauma, Violence, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:44:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plajus/pseuds/Plajus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk has never seen another human before. When the Condesce sends one after Dirk, the assassin is the one murdered by the teen. And Dirk really doesn't handle it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [TT: Log #626](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/67368) by Nile. 



You're okay, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay. Shh, shh, fucking BREATHE.

You breathe. It's a loud wheeze, 

She's never done something like this before, oh God. 

Your skin is wet, sticky. You feel the red liquid dripping your face. It's your fault it's there, YOU killed him. You killed your own, but he tried to kill you first. 

Oh God, you're okay. You're alive, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay... 

You were just doing your own thing, like every other fucking day in this damned apartment, and he came and tried to kill you. You didn't know him. Didn't recognize him. Didn't even know where he came from, you just knew that suddenly he was there. You know that fucking fish queen sent him.

He looked like you. You're still wheezing, on your hands and knees, hovered over his face. His eyes are open. They're brown. Like his hair. But he has a face, a body, two arms, two legs, just like you, he was fucking human. 

You've never seen another human before. 

She knows this. That's why she sent him.

You've only seen your brother in videos he left behind for you. You've only seen your internet friends in video chats. You've never been face-to-face with your own species. She knew this. That's why she sent him. She wasn't try to kill you, she's trying to fuck up your brain. 

You're okay, Jesus Christ, you're okay. 

A noise comes out of your throat, some sick noise like a dying animal. You killed him. You heard him scream when your sword rammed through his chest, heard him choke on his own blood, heard his cries when his blood splattered on your own skin. He had shaken hard on the ground for a good minute until he went still. Dead. Eyes open, body limp. 

You let out the noise again, thinking about his scream. Your sword is still in his chest. A pool of blood is forming around him, puddling out and touching your fingertips. 

As soon as you feel the cold liquid, you open your mouth and let out a scream. 

You scream and know that no one else can hear you, because you are alone in the middle of a dead earth, and you just murdered your own kind.

When your lungs hurt, you wheeze for breath to regain yourself. Then you scream again. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” 

She's FUCKING WITH YOUR HEAD.

You stand, legs numb, but able to feel them shake. You rip your sword from his chest and stare at him, your whole torso heaving for air, desperate for enough oxygen to calm you. 

How fucking dare she send him here to be killed. He knew what his fate was. He was tortured, just as you are now. 

How stupid. He was so stupid. 

You pull your leg back and kick it into his head, hearing his neck snap. Another sick noise, just like his scream, and you scream again, dropping the sword and holding your head. The nearby seagulls take off, startled by yet another one of your loud noises. They're the only ones to hear it besides you. 

Grab your sword. Go inside. You’re dripping blood on the floor. You don't care. You're safe inside, you're not near his body. 

It's like she's in your head now.

You pace. Back and forth.You slam your hands into a few walls, letting out frustrated yells. Your eyes sting, but you can't cry. 

You fall to your knees, eyes wide. You think about his scream as he died, the gurgling noise he made when his blood bubbled out of his throat. 

Mouth open, a new sound comes from you. A laugh. It feels so good, and you laugh happily, hysterically. He's DEAD, and you KILLED him. How many humans does she have? At least you killed one. You pretend it was her that your blade sank through. 

It makes you laugh harder. Only now do the tears fall, ones of gross joy. Your fists bang the floor, sobs wracking through you while still trying to giggle your heart out. 

Your fists are clenching around your sword, and you feel your left palm on the blade being cut into. It hurts, and your laugh turns into a wail, and you don't care. 

You look at your palm, at the small cut that's bleeding. You lick it. Tastes like iron. 

You look at your sword. Covered in his blood.

You bring your weapon close, letting your tongue touch the cool metal. You drag it up, tasting his blood. It tastes like yours. It’s cool and thick and painting your lips. 

You can’t forget this. Can’t forget this… 

You’re stuck between laughing and crying, dragging yourself to your computer. You open up any type of document you can, typing and leaving bloody fingerprints. You record what happened. You can’t forget this. 

You read over what you wrote several times. That’s when it sinks in. 

Your knees touch the floor as you crumble down. You stop laughing. You’re just crying now. You hate her so much. You can take her drones trying to kill you. This was too much. This wasn’t fair. This made your head hurt. It made everything that created your soul hurt. 

What do you do? 

There’s a ringing noise, and you jump. Eyes dart everywhere, looking for an enemy. 

It’s your computer. Jake is calling. 

You click a single button. His voice sounds through. 

“Hey, Dirk! You there? I’m having some issues, I think Brobot’s rusted up and is malfunctioning. Won’t stop wailing like a bloody goat.” 

Every breath you take shakes. You need to speak. To tell him. Calm down. You can do this, you’re okay. 

“Dirk?”

Breathe in. Out. In. Out. 

“Jake,” you finally force out. “Do y-you—” Shit. Deep breath. “Do you hunt?”

“Of course I do! You all right?” 

“What do you do with the body?”

“I suppose I bury it or leave it out for the other creatures to have a go at it. Circle of life and all, you know? Or at least that’s what Mufasa says. Ever seen Lion King, Dirk? It’s a classic where I’m from. We should stream a call sometime! I’ll introduce you to every Disney movie to exist. Great works. I heard that Walt was actually a douchebag though. Weird, huh? You’d think that—” 

“I killed him.”

“What? Walt Disney?”

“She sent a man to kill me, and I killed him. Humans are so fragile, Jake. There’s so much blood. So much. He’s still there, and I don’t know what to do. He had a life and stuff, he was hurting, I hurt him, I—” Your voice chokes and you stop. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to Jake. He’ll rant about something else. You need real help. For the first time ever, yes, you are admitting to yourself that you need help. You should call Roxy or Jane. 

“Are you hurt?” 

Jake’s voice is soft and careful. It makes your freeze in surprise. 

“No,” you let out. You sound so weak. 

“Okay. Do you feel like there’s more of them out to get you?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s paranoia. I get that all the time here. Always worried about what creature may sneak itself upon my home and try to make me its next teatime snack you know?”

You don’t reply. You just nod, even if he can’t see it. 

“But you have to sleep. Just leave me up on a video call all night, okay? I’ll keep a right good watch out for you.” 

“’Kay,” you breathe out. You can trust him. 

“It’s got to be eating away at your brain,” Jake sighs. “I mean, gutting a fish or a seagull for a meal is one thing…” 

You nod a bit more, eyes stinging. He understands. 

“I remember the first big game I killed. Had to slit its throat. I swear, it caterwailed like a dying person. Stuck with me for a long time.” 

You nod again. 

“You still there?”

You nod. 

“Dirk?”

Oh. “Yes,” you speak. 

“She won’t send more. She’s trying to hurt you. I know you’re in a down right sickish mood right now, but you’re going to make it. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thanks,” you say, voice coming out in a cough.

“Go make sure Roxy is okay, too. Then shower and come back.” 

“Okay.”

“Just… be careful, all right, Strider?”

“Yeah.”

You end the call. But you don’t contact Roxy yet. You stumble to the bathroom and puke. It hurts. 

You used to think you were alive for a reason. That you and Roxy were some type of heroes in an epic story, meant for a greater fate. 

But right now, you just wonder why the fuck your brother made sure you lived. 

Why he put you in this hell.


End file.
